I’m in my bedroom throwing on some clothes, having just taken a long, hot shower. As I stood under the shower’s powerful jets, no matter how hard I tried to banish the image from my brain, all I could see were two eyes staring at me through the glass. Did I imagine the whole thing, or was it real? Neither particularly appeals at this moment. The first suggests the email is sending me crazy, the latter that I am in terrible and imminent danger.
If I’m not going mad and my eyes didn’t deceive me, then surely it has to be the same psycho who sent me the email? It’s too much of a coincidence otherwise. But how the hell did they get in?
I purposely chose not to labour the point with Adriana. For one, I didn’t want to make her overly anxious, and two, I thought it best to drop it in case whoever it was, was listening. As shit-scared as I am, I need to try and stay calm, not let this arsehole get to me. Something tells me that’s what they want. That they’re looking to unsettle me, the way I’m rapidly starting to believe they tried to unsettle Ethan before eventually killing him.
It’s all a game with them, but I can’t rise to the bait. Can’t go asking too many questions of Adriana or Stella the way Ethan did. I need to be smarter than my predecessor.
I grab my phone off the bedside table and check for messages, relieved to find no more threatening emails or texts. There’s a message from Jasper, though. Asking if he and Rochelle can swing by in the week sometime. Christ, I was hoping he’d have forgotten about bringing Rochelle over, but clearly she’s been on at him to set something up. It’s the last thing I need, but equally, if I say no, Jasper will sense something’s not right and ask why. It’s like he’s got an inbuilt red-sensor alert or something. I tell myself that having them over for one drink won’t hurt. Provided I’m able to steer Jasper off asking any more intrusive questions. Hopefully, he’ll be more discreet with his girlfriend around. I tentatively suggest Wednesday, praying that Adriana won’t mind, before tossing my phone back down on the bed beside me. No sooner have I done so, there’s a knock on the door. It takes me by surprise. I know it can only be one person, but for obvious reasons I can’t help feeling edgy.
I go to open it. Feel calmer on seeing Adriana standing there.
‘Hi,’ I say.
‘Hi.’ She smiles. ‘Look, I know I said last night was a one-off, and it’s a bit late notice, but I don’t suppose you fancy grabbing dinner out locally?’ Her gaze lingers on me, but there’s a shyness about it I find almost irresistible. Also, a hint of trepidation, as if something’s happened to scare her but she’s too afraid to say what. I’m in a dilemma as to how to respond. On the one hand it seems like a bad idea for all sorts of reasons. Only yesterday I promised myself I wouldn’t allow myself to get close to her. And knowing someone’s watching me, someone who appears to be fiercely protective of Adriana, should surely only serve to strengthen my resolve. But on the flip side, the thought of escaping this house right now holds huge appeal. I also wonder if there’s something Adriana needs to tell me. Something she doesn’t feel comfortable broaching within the confines of these walls.
‘It’s OK if you don’t want to, I understand,’ she says rather hurriedly, doubtless prompted by my hesitation. ‘Like I said, it’s very short notice and you’re probably feeling tired from the move and so on.’ Her cheeks have reddened slightly, as if anticipating rejection.
‘No, it’s fine, I’d love to,’ I say. ‘As you said earlier, it’s not often I get a Saturday night off, and it’s a bit sad me sitting in front of Netflix by myself.’ I grin and she grins back. At that moment, she looks so lovely, I have to fight off an impulse to pull her towards me and kiss her.
‘Great,’ she says, her face brightening. ‘Shall we meet downstairs at eight? I’ll try and get a table for eight thirty at this little bistro I know off Heath Street.’
‘Sounds good, is it posh?’
‘No, not especially.’ She smiles. ‘Smart casual is fine. See you downstairs in a bit then.’
She walks away and I close the door after her, hoping this won’t turn out to be a colossal mistake. On the bright side, at least having dinner out will grant me a few hours’ breathing space. And I can use the time to ask Adriana if there’s something more than the sudden death of her former doctor troubling her. Perhaps I can even brave asking her about where she grew up, in a casual way of course.
There’s one other thing I intend to do while I’m out. I’m going to message Rick Savage, Ethan’s father. Ask him if he’ll meet with me. It’s too dangerous to call or even text him from the house for obvious reasons. But in public I’ll hopefully be safe to do so.
I’m praying there’s something Ethan told Rick that Stella’s unaware of, something that could prove useful in getting to the bottom of this nightmare situation. And if that’s the case, it’s best I find out sooner rather than later.